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Mimi guesses that it was an alarm style of trap.
The trip to the vault is productive, even if the lock investigation continues. Villagers follow your steps down the stairs and start the cleaning of the basement area. A group has been clearing the graveyard through the morning and a mound of brush, small tress, and debris from the church form the base of a funeral pyre. A stack of zombies is forming next to the pyre along with a pile of bones. You discuss your options and your next steps lead back to the manor. Kolyan excitedly tells you about a small collection of alchemical works he acquired and he directs Tural and Borracho as they set about searching his library for the formula of Holy Weapon Balm.
You quickly head back to Petra with the formula book and his family studies the pages as you anxiously watch. His son and wife both point out requirements as they discuss the processes and the smith becomes as much an observer as the troupe. ”Yes, we can do this.” Petra’s wife says and smiles confidently, ”This will not be easy, but it is neither impossible. We must spend the proper time though, the divine energy will only seep into it. It will need your attention for many hours to be sure of success.” It’s still only noon. You take a quick respite at the tavern for a lunch of vegetable stew and dark beer and a chance to discuss your plans. At a center table in the warm tavern a cluster of villagers is planning the dismantling of a home. It appears they’ve found an abandoned house that can provide the needed materials for rebuilding the church.
Mimi studies the lock, but it barely eludes her understanding again. A spark of energy dances over the etched glyphs and she carefully avoids setting off the magical trap. She’ll need to continuing training her talents on the vault of Abadar.
Mimi can hear the muffled babbling from inside the manor, but the stone walls and planked windows block it from invading her thoughts.
Mimi studies the lock, but it eludes her understanding on first pass. The thinly etched glyphs weave together in a pattern that twists with each tumbler. It’s like a version of close up magic she hasn’t encountered yet, but it provides food for thought and a chance to improve her skills. It’s not every day that one can train their talents on a vault of Abadar. Certainly her mind will wander to the puzzle through the long night ahead.
Borracho’s keen mind ascertains that this undead priest is just the spawn of a vampire, and not a full fledged vampire itself. The former head priest of the church snarls at the onslaught of the troupe while his wounds visibly start healing. ”Attack!", he bellows, then he springs toward the railing of the loft, and leaps to the wall of the church where he clings like a spider. His head turns around at an unnatural angle and with an ugly grin he fixes his gaze on Tural. ”You, man of the cloth, must serve. Slay your friends!” From below, you hear scraping and clattering in the stairwell.
The tavern empties save for the few people that live in rooms there. Tables and chairs are pulled near the fire and Borracho entertains with a tale of brighter days. Mugs and glasses remain filled and the barkeep and his helper join the group when their work is finished. "The symbol on the wall, is that Erastil? He seems to be quite popular among your guests. Does He answer your prayers better than the others?” Yes, Erastil was always a favorite of the locals, many still have shrines to him in their homes. I wouldn't say any prayers were being answered until tonight, but they were still being made.” As Tural begins his teaching, he finds the pupil to be fully engaged. Even after Borracho has finished his tale and lounges comfortably with an ale, she is still asking questions and making notes. Finally the time for singing replaces the lectures, and even then she records the words of the hymn. The evening draws to a close and the barkeep shows you to comfortable rooms upstairs. As you drift off to sleep you can hear Darya faintly singing the hymns she learned just hours earlier. You wake in the morning to a light rain falling and the sounds of children downstairs. Darya is teaching the youngsters the hymn from the night before and the troupe is greeted with their best attempt at the first verse when they descend to the common room. Biscuits, jam, and tea wait on a table beside the already crackling fire. Curiosity is one of the children singing, yet she catches Mimi’s eye and does her best to make the coin dance between her little fingers.
As with the previous morning, the impact of hope on these people has changed their mood entirely. Smiles break out easily and laughter comes freely. The troupe enjoys their simple breakfast and decides upon their next step…
Tural retrieves his medical kit and prepares to set the young man’s leg straight before calling on the gifts of Sarenrae. "The magic can do it's work on more than one.”Tural addresses the crowd and is surprised to see shock and dismay on their faces, then he realizes he's gesturing with the bone saw he just unpacked and quickly puts it away. Fortunately, Borracho distracts the crowd with his dramatic pose and offer of a tale. ”Would you like to hear a tale from Borracho?” Many heads nod at the offer. ”Yes, please, sir”, the young man pipes up as he tries to look away from his leg and the impending resetting. As Borracho distracts the crowd, Tural takes the opportunity to ask the others about their maladies. "Please explain you ailments? Madam, you are clearly in pain. And sir, is your arm broken as well?” The man has two broken fingers, they’ve been splinted and the hand is swollen, but nothing nearly as bad as the broken ankle. The old woman is a different case. A sharp bit of walnut shell that snuck into a loaf cut deeply into her gums and the roof of her mouth. The wound is more threatening than the broken foot with infection spreading close to her brain. Tural doesn’t let the concern show on his face and silently prays that Sarenrae’s gifts will cure it. Flemming holds the young man and offers support as Tural quickly cracks the foot back into place. A howl of pain escapes and tears stream down his face, but the effort proves successful and the foot aligns with the leg again. The crowd gathers around as Tural begins praying, eager to see the divine healing.
Tural encounters the same strange resistance on reaching out to Sarenrae, but he’s prepared for it and continues forcing against the barrier. This time it’s stronger than before, perhaps from the effort of channeling for so many, but his dedication again breaks it and healing energy flows throughout the room. Gasps of awe and cries of happiness interrupt Borracho’s tale. Not only is the young man’s leg healed, but the old woman smiles widely and the middle aged man wiggles his fingers. In the crowd, people unwrap minor cuts and blisters and marvel at the fresh skin. Whispers spread through the crowd, ”Praise be to Sarenrae!” Borracho takes advantage of the moment to shift his tale to include the Dawnflower, the Healing Flame and the Everlight to her followers, and the crowd gives him full attention. Contentment and happiness are plain to see on their faces and hope flows as plentiful as the wine.
Updated the combat grid link, it's still a work in progress, but at least it's a map with the character images on it and a numbered grid. Please let me know if you encounter any issues with it loading.
After breakfast and your daily preparations, the troupe bids farewell to the small group at the inn with many handshakes and wishes of luck on the road ahead. ”Take this with you”, Carl produces a sturdy axe, ”the road isn’t maintained often and fallen trees sometimes get in the way. Just chop off the limbs and use those to lever it aside.” The carriage rolls onto the road and the morning begins well enough, but as you progress the gloom seems to close in around you. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors about the muddy roadway. Thick, cold mists spread a pallor over the road. Giant tree trunks stand on both sides of the road, their branches clawing into the mists. In every direction the mists grow thicker and the forest grows more oppressive. After two hours of bouncing along and splashing through muddy puddles, the carriage pulls to a halt as Flemming reins in the horses. A fallen tree lies partially across the road blocking half of the track. The roots protrude from the torn ground and it appears to have fallen naturally. Clearing the tree from the road will probably take an hour or two of hard work, but you should have plenty of time to still make it to town before sundown by the innkeepers directions. You could also try to navigate around the fallen tree, but that would risk the carriage getting stuck in the soft shoulder of the road.
Flemming leaps to the dance while Tural retrieves his harp and starts with a simple song and tune. Borracho complements the entertainment with a juggling performance and Mimi produces a deck of cards that she shuffles and flips so quickly that the cards appear to mimic the juggling and dancing as they float between her hands. Not to be outdone by his troupe mates, Borracho moves through the room adding personal items from the locals to his juggling; a hat, a mug, a pipe, even William’s still removed shoe all join the blur of objects flipping through the air. The performance amazes and the inn is soon the source of a joviality that hasn't occurred in years for these people. In his heart Borracho knows that it was his best juggling performance ever, and word of the troupe is sure to spread through this strange, still unknown area. As the performance finishes the innkeeper claps heartily and proclaims it worthy of a feast. He moves to the kitchen area and start clattering around, then his head pokes out. ”Did you mention something about having spices with you? It’s been years since a trader has visited these parts, even a pinch of pepper would do us all well.”
Borracho's performance of all 12,000 stanzas takes as long as expected, and the wine flows freely along with the occasional tears. When it's finished Madam Eva claps her small hands in delight. "Wonderful, Borracho, thank you!" With the telling finished Madam Eva shuffles the cards and smiles gently at each member of the party. ”The cards tell a story, I can interpret what they indicate, but it is for you to recognize their connection to the events in your life.” She turns four cards for each person; a past, present, and future, then the fourth card, the Fate card, that she gives to you. ”This Fate card is a chance for you to change your own timeline, use it wisely for they are not a trivial item.” It seems an understatement, any magic that can alter the course of time is powerful indeed and rarely given away.
”For you Flemming, your past is marked by The Empress, the power of creation and a connection to the land itself; your present aligns with the Two of Hellfires, the juggler with balance you are flexible and adaptable to things around you; and in your future is The Ace of Skulls, a good sign for it indicates new beginnings, creative inspiration, and emotional fulfillment. And your Fate, The Devil,” a sad look crosses Madam Eva’s face, ”the ultimate power of temptation, guard against it wisely.” ”For you, Borracho, your past is marked by The Lovers, the ultimate union between two people; your present aligns with The Emperor, a symbol of reliability, but one that also needs protection from it’s own self destructive tendencies; and in your future is The Knight of Hellfires, the methodical and dedicated work toward your goals. And your Fate, The Tower,” the color drains from Madam Eva’s face and she looks distraught for a moment, ”the source of massive change, upheaval, destruction, and chaos.” You see genuine concern as she breaks character for a moment. ”Oh, Borracho, do be careful, I’m ever so worried for you!” After taking a flustered moment and draining her glass of wine before refilling it for another few sips she gathers herself and continues. ”For you, Tural, your past is marked by The Ace of Hellfires, a successful choice that improved your life and your wealth; your present aligns with The Page of Viking Horns, with clever plans and a competitive nature you achieve your goals; and in your future is The Nine of Hellfires, you will find prosperity and comfort.” A nervous look crosses her face as she turns the Fate card, then an unrestrained smile breaks out. ”And your Fate, The King of Hellfires, the generous provider that shares his wealth and success from all that’s been accomplished.” With a lighter spirit she turns the final cards for Mimi. For you, Mimi, your past is marked by Strength, the sign of power, perseverance, and control; your present aligns with The Page of Skulls, an opportunity for growth and development; and in your future is The Star, you are the source of hope, inspiration, and renewal.” Madam Eva looks at Mimi directly.
Mimi:
you hear Madam Eva’s voice in your head, although she doesn’t speak, Well, the telling is a bit theatrical as you know, but I’m equally curious to see how you provide hope, inspiration, and renewal to your ‘herd of cats’ as you think of them. ”And of course your Fate, The Queen of Viking Horns, a discerning intelligence that provides clarity when others are in the dark.” A wry smile crosses her lips. ”And so the cards have told their story, now it is time for you to continue living your stories. Ask me any questions you will, then we shall take our leave and wish you the best on your journey ahead.”
As Borracho’s kilt lifts in the breeze Flemming looks studiously anywhere else, and his diverted gaze discovers a few strange things about the situation. The gnome has fresh mud on his boots and the wheels of the fortune teller’s wagon are covered with the same wet mud, but the roads are dry and there’s been no rain in the region for over a week. The goats that pull their wagon exhale steam like it’s a cold morning, but it’s mid afternoon and warm. Stranger still the sounds of birds and insects are absent and an uncomfortable silence sits upon the clearing. But most shocking to Flemming is the pipe of the gnome, the bowl glows with each draw, but no smoke curls from the pipe, yet the gnome exhales a cloud of smoke after each puff with a satisfied look. Also, Borracho’s hair waves in a gentle breeze, though no trees or grass stir in the same breeze, but that’s normal. As Flemming observes the weirdness and tends to the horses, and Borracho helps Mimi from the wagon with courtesy and patience, Tural strides forward with confidence and opens the door to the fortune teller’s wagon. A cloud of incense smoke rolls out obscuring vision for a moment and when the air clears you can see an opulent area much larger than is possible for the small wagon. Purple drapes hang from the walls of the dark room and braziers glow with lit incense. In the center of the room four chairs are staged before a carved table set with flickering candles. Behind the table sits a pretty woman that seems far too young to be an accomplished fortune teller. ”You didn’t keep me waiting,” she smiles warmly at Tural, ”my gnome friend likes to exaggerate. We simply arrived early to be sure we didn’t miss you on the road. Please, come in and take a seat. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” She smiles again and gestures to the chairs.
Here's the discussion page for our I6 Ravenloft campaign. I'll get the links for the maps and images setup over the next few days. Welcome to Barovia!
Al doesn't care much for the praise of scholars and writing more books, and his last attempt at the literary arts didn't end so well. Now that the world has been saved he's content to get a pint at a good pub and start planning for the future. His old joints and arthritis aren't meant for adventuring any more, it's time for building a little farm and planting a small orchard. He can sell some of the expensive armor and items he's gained to build a good property, complete with a solid head bonking post should Tristain ever visit. "Ain't no sense in hanging around this dusty tower, let's get a drink. There's a little pub back in town called 'The Starting Corner' and that seems like a fine place for figuring out what's next." The old man slowly starts plodding back to where it all began what seems like an eon ago.
Maybe that's why the door was crying, even it couldn't handle the demented horrors and unreasonable cultists of this age." Al nods sagely and readies to continue up the dark yellow tower.
Al has been carrying a signal whistle and bell for what seems like forever and it finally serves a purpose. He plays a lively tune on the whistle while harshly ringing the bell and it puts any snoozing alarm spell to shame. Within a minute he's annoying even himself.
Al decides maybe it was some really spicy food he ate and attempts to wake from the spice induced dream.
Al starts to feels the pains of aging, then realizes that's just normal for his old man status. "You can't age me, I'm already a geezer!" He shouts at the apparition, then follows his complaint with a whirling blade.
"Meh, I've had worse dreams, probably something spicey I ate. Well, let's get on with it, no point in lucid dreaming if you don't do anything except bonk your head or whine about it." Al, the totally normal human, scratches his belly and prepares to return to the starting corner.
Al airwalks back to the ritual site with a sigh of relief and stays vigilant while Tristain completes the ritual. "That thing was terrifying, I hope we don't see one of those again. What do you think it swallowed over the years, could anything still be inside of it?" Al ponders the question and isn't sure he wants to find out or spend the time cutting through the massive worm.
"See!" Al shouts at the departing witnesses. "Armel was no match for an old man and I have cataracts, arthritis, and take naps every afternoon. Imagine if that weakling had encountered a real warrior, go tell your friends!" Pleased with the outcome Al plies the bartender for a good burgundy while the party loots the corpse and also presses him for information about the theatre. "Nice place you have here, it's fine with us if you keep managing the place. Where was Armel and his cronies holing up, any secret rooms you can tell me about?"
Al calls upon his god to smite this ghoulish, er, ghoul and feels an unknown language surge through him. "Tu es le petit roi des déchets!"
Al looks to Lothan and indicates the giant ghoul at the center table. "Tell him, loudly so everyone in the bar can hear, that I think he looks weak and that even an old man could beat him in one to one combat. It's embarrassing that anyone follows such a weak fool, even that axe looks fake." Then Al looks to the rest of the party, "Anything helps, especially haste and displacement." When the words start flying Al will prepare to cast his own spell, Dispel Evil, and bring a godly smite against the ghoul leader.
"Yeah!" Al supports Lothan, although he has no idea what Lothan is actually saying and he's really hoping it doesn't involve vampire ladies again.
I'd be ok with a cut scene where the party has exhausted all their abilities and barely survives, but lives to tell the tale of the Shoggoth and rests in the hall of records that evening while healing their wounds.
Albert almost starts dancing, then remembers how bad it hurts his old knees and he refrains. Instead, he continues slashing away at the creature.
Al shakes off the spell and returns the gesture with a flurry of slashes. "You miserable toadstool, be gone!"
"It's simply a misunderstanding, we would never abuse your hospitality..." Al's words echo Starflit's for a moment, then a giant column of flame scorches the lord. "Well, guess that goose is cooked." Al gives up on diplomacy and smites the corrupt lord. "Have it your way you kidnapping rat!"
Al shudders as the undead creatures slides up to him, but he's able to resist the unwanted advances. "Back to the grave you foul thing!" With rightousness Al smites the creature.
"Let's go, we'll lock that door behind us, it's unlikely the guards have a key to the wine room." Once the door is locked, Al will follow Kyffin through the secret passage.
Frustrated, Lothan applies the lockpicks a second time.
"Oh don't worry about that, we'll be in and out quickly." Al smiles again at the staff while Lothan opens the locked door.
"How dare you speak to me this way, common churl! I know full well the lady is inside regardless of where Avaric is at the moment and I'll see her NOW, out of the way or I'll report you to his lordship myself!" Al goes full dramatic and with a grand gesture tries to push his way past the guards, hoping the bluff of reporting the guards to Lord Avaric is enough to cause them to step aside. "When he arrives you can tell him we're inside waiting."
As the party proceeds to the other rooms Al fixes Starflit with a serious gaze. "If there was ever a time to Not use your eyes and ears of the city this would be it."
"Thank you for your hospitality, and for welcoming us to your home, it's most impressive. I am the Count of and these are my companions. We were admiring your hedge garden when we arrived, surely you must be a great supporter of the arts for your vision to stretch to botanical designs. I myself am a great fan of the musical arts, though I must admit I lack any talent in that area myself. Perhaps it's why I'm so enchanted by those with the ear and creativity for the shaping of sound."
"The scented oils you use for your home are most interesting, do I detect a faint touch of spilled blood with undertones of feral animal?" Al adds in an attempt to seem like a sophisticated vampire.
"Hello!" Al beams at the incorporeal man, "We're from the newly formed interplane restoration committee, surely you've heard of us and our important work. We've wonderful news, your estate is in consideration for a sizable restoration grant, provided of course that it meets the criteria for our prestigious work. We're here for a site evaluation to qualify your estate and note the safety preparations that need to be completed before our crews commence their restoration efforts. While we would be grateful for your guidance around the estate during this important stage, we do understand if you're busy and we'll need to manage on our own. I assure you that my colleagues and myself will be mindful and considerate of your property as we preform our inspections."
Al whispers too loudly back to the party, "It's another stupid ghost, just play along, it probably doesn't even remember its own name."
Al throws a pile of coins on the counter, apparently undeterred by the shopkeep being a ghost. "Give me one of those tan bag of tricks, a sack of prunes, a ring of protection +3, some candied ginger, and an amulet of natural armor +3."
Al inspects the luck blade, then places it in his pack. "This item demands responsibility and clear intentions, that rules you two out." Al points at Tristain and Lothan playing grab hands with the ring. "If a situation demands it, we'll decide as a party how it's used." Confident that settles the matter, Al is ready to proceed.
It occurs to Al that this fearsome creatures deserves to be smited and he calls upon his god before unleashing another volley of arrows.
"King in Yellow, of course not, we stand apart! I am the King in Blue, and if we don't stand apart then we both become the Kings in Green. And forgive me for not recognizing you, are you the Queen in Alabaster? It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady. May we humbly request that your excellency tell us about this place where we've arrived, for it is a new land to us."
Al painfully shuffles forward for healing and winces as the thought of continuing further without rest. "Damn, I'm old", he mutters to himself as draws a painful breath. His energy spent for the day, the old man cleans his blade and heals his wounds.
"That barking butter knife never tells us anything until we're already getting smacked around, I say we sell it and take a nice vacation after we've dealt with Lowls. No wonder Teralinda didn't make it out of here alive, I wouldn't use it to cut cheese." Al continues insulting the sword for the next several minutes as the party decides their next steps.
"Yes, we are here to request the use of your observa..." ”So sorry. We’re here for your deaths!” "Ah, well, you see, by death my friend meant..." Three chalkboards slam into the faces of the nagas. "Right, please ignore the hasty actions..." A column of massive flame scorches the snake ladies. "Ah heck, Slither for your lives you serpents!" Albert dashes forward to slash at the naga on the left.
"You are totally correct, of course, this is your time, and with your time wouldn't you love to join an interesting debate on the methods of cranial knocks to induce an aura of calmness? Our companion here is an expert on the subject and very, very smart, much like yourself." Al gestures at Tristain.
"But that's not all, you could also spend your time in quality discussion while enjoying a fine meal prepared by our very own master chef!" Al gestures at Lothan. "His culinary skills were highly sought after in the bustling streets of Katapesh, in fact very esteemed individuals in that city were willing to kill to get their hands on him. Now doesn't that sound like a fine use of your time, enjoying intellectual discussion while partaking of a delicious meal?" Al provides his friendly old man smile as encouragement.
wow, he's a priest, Al realizes after all this time. "DO I LOOK LIKE A PET TO YOU? DO I?!?" Al has to agree with Tara Linda, "It can't be a 'pet' if you can't pet it. These folks that keep things in cages that you can't pet and then call them 'pets' just ain't right." With the path before them clear, and shiny in his new plate, Al strides forward ready to slay polyps and ancient evils and stay on the trail of Lowls. "We're close, Lowls can't be that far ahead of us now, let's keep up the pace and catch him before things get worse. I don't one bit like these evil rituals and he'll keep at them until stopped."
I think we should pronounce this spot, right here, as the starting corner. "Son, I've been traveling with you for years now, and that has to be the worst idea you've ever had. This city is absolutely the least likely spot in all of Golarion to be declared a starting corner. I can't even tell what direction the buildings are leaning, much less remember one intersection from the other, and it feels like everything moves when our backs are turned. This city is more like an ending corner." "And, I concur on finding the hideous aberrations, that does sound like a good idea."
Albert finds the prunes he was searching for in his haversack and looks up in time to see everyone congratulating Kyffin. "What happened? Did we find the sword? Great work, team! Prune, anyone?" Al offers to share his delicious and regulating treats.
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